


Safe and Sound

by compassionatecocoa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, BAMF!Stiles, Derek POV, Emissary!Stiles, Fluff, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Mythology - Freeform, Plot Twists, Stiles POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compassionatecocoa/pseuds/compassionatecocoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles fucks with magic and finds a spell that can transport him into people's dreams. Naturally, he overstays his welcome.</p><p> </p><p>I've been meaning to write this for a while, and I finally got to it! I hope you enjoy this angsty mess!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dream A Little Dream

It wasn't something he wanted to think about, the dreams. Derek just wanted to ignore the problem until it went away. But, the problem wasn't going away. It was getting worse.

Derek could not stop dreaming about Stiles Stilinski.

It's not like he was ashamed of it or anything. If there was one person he knew that was worthy of starring in his dreams, it was definitely Stiles.

The problem was the plot. Of the dreams, that is. They weren't sex dreams, which would make more sense because Derek had always found Stiles attractive, but they were... something else.

It always started out the same way, Stiles and Derek were trapped together, but the place was always different. Last night, it had been the screening room of a movie theater. The dreams never gave him a reason why they were trapped or what they were hiding from or if they were even hiding. For all he understood, they could have just been hanging out in a fucking screening room as a bonding experience. But, their mission was always clear: get to know each other.

It didn't make any sense, these dreams had no point other than for Stiles and Derek to spill their hearts out to each other. And that's what scared Derek the most. It should feel like a nightmare for him to tell someone about his past, his family, how broken he is, especially Stiles, but he always wakes up feeling so content, at peace. And it always feels so real.

The reason it felt so real was the fact that Stiles poured his heart out, too. Stiles talked about his mom, how he felt abandoned by Scott, how he sometimes wished he was a werewolf, but knew deep down it wasn't what he really wanted. Stiles told Derek that all he wanted was to be useful, to help, to take care of his pack. It made Derek feel so raw every time he heard Stiles say he wasn't strong like the rest of the pack. Stiles was the strongest, bravest person he knew. And he would tell him that, over and over until Stiles said he believed him.

Derek could always tell he was lying.

The dreams always ended the same way, too. After they'd bared their souls to each other, whatever had kept them from being able to escape would disappear, and Stiles would leave. And he would always say goodbye the same way, every single time:

"So long, Sourwolf."

It was strange and left Derek feeling disconcerted, confused, and oddly enough, _happy_.

He knew these dreams meant something, something life-altering and important, but if he was being honest, which apparently he was, he didn't want to risk losing these dreams to figure out what they meant.

He probably needed to ask Deaton about them, or probably tell Stiles about them, but neither of those things sounded outrightly appealing to Derek.

So, reality would just have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the first chapter/prologue thing! I hope you liked it!


	2. Dream Weaver (I Believe You Can Get Me Through the Night)

Stiles is trying not to feel guilty.

Ever since he, Scott, and Allison had sacrificed themselves to save their parents, Stiles had been learning everything he possibly could from Deaton about the mystics of being an Emissary. Recently, he'd learned a new spell.

It worked a lot like the sacrifices because it was trance-like and took him into a subconscious world, but it was kind of evil.

He was transporting himself into Derek's dreams.

He was ashamed, horribly ashamed. But, the first time had been an accident! He'd been practicing with spells and runes when he read a spell that was supposed to transplant you into someone's subconscious mind. Unfortunately, reading it was also how you activated it. Next thing he knew, he was outside the Hale House.

But, the Hale House was completely in tact. It was _gigantic_ and painted a tan color that Stiles would have called “Arabian Nights” because it reminded him of the deserts in Aladdin. The doorway was made of bricks which just screamed elegance and half of the house was covered in ivy. It was the most beautiful home he’d ever seen.

It was nighttime and Derek was nowhere to be found, so Stiles wasn’t even sure at first that he’d executed the spell. That is, until he saw sixteen year-old Derek walking out the front door of the house.  
  
With his sister. Laura.

Stiles felt nauseous. It was too private, he had no right to know that Derek dreamed about his family as if they were still alive. He had no right. But, he didn’t know how to leave.

Stiles watched as Derek’s mother, Talia, appeared in the doorway of what used be their home and shouted after Derek and Laura, “Don’t forget the basil! The sauce will taste awful without it!” She looked just like Derek, or rather, Derek looked just like her, and it made Stiles’ heart wrench. Laura, on the other hand, looked starkly different from her little brother; she had dirty blonde hair and dark eyes that contrasted his dark hair and bright eyes. But, Stiles could tell by the way they smiled at each other and nudged each other as they walked that their personalities were much more similar than their looks led others to believe.

“Wouldn’t for the world!” Derek shouted back with a smile. He had a brilliant smile. Stiles’ heart broke as he realized that he’d never seen it before.

Derek and Laura were climbing into their car, a huge silver SUV that was obviously meant for a huge family, when it happened.

It all happened in a blur. One second, Stiles was watching Laura and Derek play shove each other, and the next he was watching the Hale house burst into flames. Fire exploded from the windows, charring the beautiful window shutters that Stiles had admired when he first saw them. Stiles couldn’t breathe, he knew this was a dream but he still felt panic creeping its way into his lungs, stifling them. He wanted to be anywhere but there, and yet he couldn’t leave. Even if he’d known how to, he didn’t think he would have because he couldn’t stop looking at Derek.

A howl escaped Derek’s lips that Stiles was sure could have been heard halfway across California. He started sprinting towards the house, but only made it a few feet before Laura tackled him. “Derek, stop!” There were tears streaming down her face, Stiles could practically see her heart breaking, her world ending, but she was older than Derek, wiser. She knew there was nothing they could do.

“Laura, we have to do something!” Derek was sobbing, and Stiles wanted to turn away, to try and forget the look on Derek’s face as he watched his family and everything he cared about being destroyed right in front of him. “It’s the lunar eclipse, Laura, they’ll die!” He tried to run again, but Laura was too strong for him. He thrashed and growled, but to no avail.

Laura held him down and took a deep breath, her eyes a vibrant gold, “And so will you if you go in there, Derek! There’s nothing we can do, mother would want us to be safe!” That was what it took, the mention of his mother, for Derek to stop. He curled into a ball on the ground, holding his knees, and he cried. He cried and cried and Stiles’ heart shattered for him. Stiles knew what losing his family had done to Derek, but it was so different to watch it happen, to see the way he joked with his mother and played with his sister, to see him happy, just before having any possibility of ever being truly happy again torn away from him. The Hale house fell apart, piece by piece, while Laura and Derek howled and cried in front of it, probably imagining what was happening to their loved ones, praying that they were dying quickly, painlessly. It took all of Stiles’ power to stop himself from comforting Derek, even if this Derek didn’t even know him yet.

“Stiles?”

Stiles whipped around to see Derek. The older, adult Derek, _his_ Derek.

“Stiles, what are you doing here?” He wasn’t looking at Stiles. He was looking at himself, or the younger version of himself. It was all very confusing and heartbreaking.

Then, Stiles made sense of it all. Derek was having a nightmare, this wasn’t a dream at all. Derek wasn’t remembering the life he had with his family, or even dreaming that it had never ended. He was reliving the night he lost them, the night that he blamed himself for every day of his life.

Stiles came to the agonizing conclusion that Derek probably had this nightmare every single night.

He stepped towards Derek, a steady hand out in front of him, trying to keep Derek calm, at least on the outside. “Derek, I need you to listen to me, okay?” Derek didn’t look at him, but he nodded in understanding. “This is all a dream, a nightmare. Okay, Derek?” Derek finally looked at him, and when he did there was fire in his eyes, fury.

“Stiles, is that some sort of joke?”

Stiles crossed the rest of the space between them, placing his shaking hands on Derek’s shoulders, “No, no, I mean…” Stiles groaned, this was all so complicated, “This happened, this is real, but you’re reliving it in your head right now. You’re asleep, Derek, you have to believe me! I need you to wake up.” Derek grabbed Stiles’ arms, his eyes turning bright blue and his fangs elongating, he was out of control.

“You’re lying,” he growled. He threw Stiles on the ground and began stalking towards him, claws first, clearly planning to attack. Stiles swallowed hard, his heart beating at the speed of light. Would he die in real life if he died in Derek’s subconscious? Was that the fine print of the spell?

“I’m not lying to you, Derek. Don’t you trust me?” And at that, Derek stopped. He quirked his head to the left, as though he was listening to Stiles’ heartbeat.

His claws retracted along with his fangs, and his eyes turned back into that beautiful green that Stiles knew and loved. He grabbed Stiles’ hand and pulled him back to his feet, “I do. I trust you, Stiles, more than anyone I know.” Stiles’ heart stopped, his throat suddenly felt dry. He could feel hot tears forming in his eyes.

Derek trusted him? More than anyone? More than his pack?

Stiles wasn’t prepared to deal with the gravity of that.

When Stiles finally spoke, it was only a whisper, “I’m so sorry, Derek…” Derek looked into his eyes, and even though Stiles wasn’t sure what he was looking for, it seemed like Derek had found it. He knew that he would regret it, but he hugged Derek. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s middle and he hugged him, wishing he had the power to take his pain away with his touch like Scott and Isaac did. Stiles suddenly regretted every time he’d ever wished anything bad on Derek like imprisonment or death because Derek didn’t deserve any of it. Derek was a good person, he always had been, but he was tortured by his own mind every single day. He faced demons that would kill anyone else and survived. Derek survived because that’s what his mother would have wanted, just like Stiles knew his mother wanted that from him. Derek had every right to act the way he did, to choose not to smile, to choose not to laugh at Stiles’ jokes.

Stiles tried to convey all of those thoughts through that one hug, and he prayed that Derek understood. From the way Derek returned the hug, he could tell he had succeeded.

“It’s not your fault, Stiles, it’s mine,” Derek sniffled and Stiles wanted nothing more than to take Derek away from all this. He wanted to save Derek. That was what he was good at, apparently.

Stiles looked back at Laura, only to see her eyes shift from a bright yellow hue to a deep red. Stiles had never seen something so heartbreaking in his whole entire life.

When Stiles closed his eyes to let the tears for the broken man he’d always misunderstood finally fall, he woke up in his own bed. He suddenly knew how to escape the dreams: he had to break down Derek’s walls, Derek needed to let him in.

After that first night, Stiles made a solemn vow to help Derek, to save him from himself.

Unfortunately, he would have to keep getting into Derek’s head to do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's the second chapter! I'll probably post the next chapter in a day or two!


	3. Life Is But A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This may be a dream, but it's certainly real.

_Derek woke up in a bouncy house._

_That’s right. A fucking bouncy house. He was jolted awake by being tossed around like a tac in a bucket. Stiles was bouncing and giggling and as much as Derek hated to admit it, it was a nice thing to see. However, he refused to bounce. There was no way that was going to happen. Derek had a shred of dignity, and he didn’t plan on wasting it in a bouncy house._

_On the other hand, he wouldn’t mind wasting it, despite himself, on begging to touch his mouth to the strip of skin that kept revealing itself whenever Stiles bounced._

_Shaking that thought away, Derek reached out a hand, easily knocking Stiles onto his face. Stiles sputtered, a few muffled curse words escaping his mouth, and Derek had to stifle a laugh._

_Stiles finally righted himself, “You_ ass _! You couldn’t have just asked me to sit down?” Derek looked at him incredulously._

_“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth formed into a small smirk, not noticeable to people who don’t pay attention._

_Stiles noticed._

_“Stiles,” Derek sighed. Stiles liked it when he said his name like that, as if he was trying his hardest to hate him, but couldn’t help how much he didn’t. “Why are we in a bouncy house?”_

_“I was hoping it would help you relax, loosen up a bit! But, clearly, I forgot that you’re a funsucker! Seriously, who doesn’t like bouncy houses?” Derek rolled his eyes and stared at Stiles as if to say_ get to the fucking point _. “Anyway, I was hoping being somewhere childish and stupid would help take the pressure off of talking to me. I know I’m not exactly your first-choice confidante, but you and I both know we’re not getting out of this bouncy house until you start talkin’. So, what’s on your mind?” Derek’s mouth was in a firm line, he was frustrated. As much as he enjoyed having someone to talk to, there were some times when he really didn’t feel like talking._

_Big shocker there._

_“Stiles, do we have to talk about the past today? Can’t we talk about something less agonizing?” Stiles wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be funny, but he chuckled anyway._

_“Derek, you know the drill. Now stop whining. I think today we’ll talk about past relationships.” He smiled evilly at Derek, it was terrifying. It was in these moments that Stiles showed his very own predatory side, and Derek actually kind of liked it. He liked seeing that regular humans could act like animals, too._

_Derek hated talking about his past relationships, mostly because there were only three and they all ended fairly awfully. He scowled and Stiles started laughing. He hated when Stiles laughed at him. He hated it and he loved it, but mostly he hated it._

_An agonized groan escaped Derek’s lips. He knew there was no escaping Stiles. “I have been in three real relationships. The first was when I was sixteen. Her name was Paige. I killed her.” Stiles eyes widened, but other than that, he didn’t react. Derek appreciated it. “The next was Kate, not long after Paige. You know how that worked out. And the third was Jennifer, which was even worse than the first two.” Derek looked at Stiles unblinkingly and frankly. Stiles looked unsure of how to respond._

_But, of course, Stiles always responded anyway. “Well, I know all I really want or need to know about Kate and Jennifer, but you should tell me more about Paige.”_

_Derek sighed, “Stiles, I don’t want to talk about it.”_

_“You know damn well that you don’t have a choice.”_

_With a grimace to defeat all grimaces, Derek pushed forward in acknowledgement, “She was beautiful, that was the first thing I realized about her. The second thing I realized was that she didn’t worship me like everyone else did, and it was refreshing. I fell in love with her tenacity, but also her positivity. She didn’t mind that no one knew about us, and she didn’t care that we came from two different worlds. I was sure she and I were meant to be together forever.” Stiles nodded understandingly. “Peter convinced me that I should change her so that we could be together. I convinced Ennis to do it, but the bite didn’t take. I should’ve known better, but I didn’t. So, I killed her to stop her suffering. I took an innocent life. Boom, blue eyes.” Derek flashed them at Stiles, and Stiles heart rate quickened like it always did when Derek shifted. Derek found it odd._

_“So, you think she was your one true love?” There was an uptick in Stiles’ heartbeat. It intrigued Derek. That is, until he remembered this was all a dream._

_“No, I don’t,” Derek replied. “I don’t believe in true love. I just believe in deep connections, Stiles. I believe in finding someone who manages to make you feel happy to be alive and challenge your beliefs at the same time, someone who makes all the bullshit of your past seem worthwhile. I don’t deserve love, but if I were to find it, I would want it to be with someone who understands how I feel, someone who is willing to accept my past because I’m willing to accept theirs. I want someone who will make me forget, or at least, learn to forgive myself.” He felt himself crumple. He knew he’d never find that in a million years. No one would ever love him like that. He had far too much baggage._

_“I really want that for you, Derek. I want you to forgive yourself, some day. I know it will take time, but I hope I’m around to see it.” Derek couldn’t handle the sincerity and compassion he saw in Stiles’ eyes. Derek wasn’t worthy of it, wasn’t worthy of Stiles at all, really._

_“I hope so, too.” They sat there in comfortable silence for a long time. Derek kept trying to sniff out Stiles’ emotions. There was a lot of sadness, but also joy, and he thought he might be smelling love, too. But, he kept remembering that it was all just a dream, and he realized that he was noticing all of these things because these were things that he_ wanted _. Derek wanted Stiles to love him, wanted it more than anything he’d ever wanted it before, and he hated that it was just another thing he could never have._

_The peaceful quiet ended, of course, with the sound of Stiles’ voice._

_“Fine, big guy, I’ll go now! Let’s see, past relationships…” Stiles started stroking his chin in mock thought, then turned to smirk obnoxiously at Derek, “I have none!”_

_Derek was shocked. Okay, not exactly shocked, but a little confused. Sure, Stiles wasn’t popular at school, but he was definitely attractive. There was no way he had never been in a relationship, it just didn’t make sense. “Wait, what? Why haven’t you been in a relationship before?” And at that, Stiles laughed, guffawed even. But, it was sad, it had no real humor behind it._

_“Are you fucking kidding me, man? Have you seen me?”_

_“Yes,” Derek deadpanned._

Sarcastic little shit, _thought Stiles._

_“I am the opposite of desirable, dude. I’m scrawny and I babble around attractive people and I make really unattractive faces when I eat and drink, so there’s really no hope for me.” Stiles spoke matter-of-factly, and Derek hated it. If there’s one thing Derek knew, it was that Stiles was definitely desirable. Painfully so, in fact._   
  
_“You’re such an idiot,” Derek muttered._

_“Gee, thanks Derek, you sure know how to boost a guy’s confidence,” Derek rolled his eyes, but reached his hand out to place it on Stiles’ arm._

_“Stiles, just because Lydia Martin isn’t interested in you doesn’t mean no one is. You’re very attractive, and it’s dumb that I should even have to reassure you of that. Now quit fishing for compliments.” Stiles was slack-jawed, staring at Derek like he’d just grown another head._

_“You think I’m attractive?” Stiles asked. Derek could tell Stiles hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but Stiles’ brain-to-mouth filter was very dysfunctional._

_Did Derek want to answer this question? This was only a dream, after all. Still, if Derek admitted his feelings to dream Stiles, it would mean he was admitting these feelings to himself, too. And he wasn’t sure he was ready for that._

_The hopeful look on Stiles’ face decided for him._

_“Stiles…” How do you tell your new alpha’s 17 year-old best friend that you dream about him every night, and that you think about touching him, and that you’re utterly in love with his spirit and the way he approaches every obstacle he comes face-to-face with? “You are the single most beautiful person I have ever come to know.”_

_Derek didn’t have time to hear what Stiles had to say about that because the dream ended a moment later._

_“So long, Sourwolf.”_

_Apparently, he’d said what he needed to say._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter! I hope you enjoy it!


	4. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles figured he would get caught eventually, he just didn't think things would escalate so quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty long, but once I delved into the feelings, I couldn't stop! I hope you enjoy!

Stiles had the fleeting thought that this spell must have been where they’d come up with the old wives’ tale that if someone appeared in your dream, it meant they’d been thinking about you as they fell asleep. That probably meant that most of the old wives’ tales were inspired by witches and warlocks.

Cool.

It hadn’t taken much research, in fact Stiles only had to read the rest of the passage about the spell from the book Deaton had given him to learn how to manipulate Derek’s dreams.

He knew it was immoral. He knew it was wrong.

But, he figured that if Derek ever found out, he could just explain why he was doing it and Derek would forgive him.

He figured wrong.

Derek had gone to Deaton because of the dreams. Stiles should have realized he would, but it hadn’t even crossed his mind that having a bunch of dreams about he and Stiles _sitting down and talking to each other_ might concern him. Deaton, being as intelligent as he is, probably had no trouble figuring out that the cause of these dreams was Stiles being an invasive little shit.

So, Stiles wasn’t exactly surprised when Derek climbed into his window at _three in the fucking morning_ to murder him. His eyes were glowing that bright blue that simultaneously terrified Stiles and gave him tingles in his funhouse. His fangs were elongated, his claws were out, and he was absolutely seething with rage. He sauntered toward Stiles slowly, very reminiscent of an actual wolf approaching its weak, vulnerable prey.

Stiles’ only choice was to try and explain himself before Derek’s claws managed to reach his throat. “Derek, Derek, I can explain!” Derek just kept advancing, unfazed by Stiles’ words. “Derek, seriously, stop! This is not funny, if you’ve finally grown a sense of humor, I don’t like it and you need to fucking stop! If you kill me, Scott will never forgive you and you’ll get arrested because my dad’s a really good cop and he’ll figure out it was you and,” Derek did not stop, did not slow, he was inches from Stiles now. “Derek, I’m sorry! I just wanted to help you! I’m sorry I invaded your privacy, I know it was wrong, but I swear the first time was an accident and I couldn’t stand how broken you seemed, Derek, okay? I care about you, and when you care about people, you help them! For fuck’s sake, Derek, don’t you get that?” Derek halted, but he didn’t shift back to his human self for a few moments, listening to Stiles’ heartbeat the way he always did when he wanted to trust Stiles, but wasn’t sure if he should.

A few moments later, his blue eyes were gone along with his claws and fangs, but he was still heaving, glaring at Stiles with more anger than Stiles had ever seen. However, Stiles saw no hate or even dislike in Derek’s eyes. Derek just looked… hurt.

Stiles had hurt him, betrayed his trust, which was the complete opposite of what he’d wanted. Still, he should have known this would happen.

He climbed off of his bed and approached Derek, slowly, just as he had the first time he’d accidentally found himself in Derek’s dreams. His voice was soft again, gentle and concerned, “I’m _sorry_ , Derek.” The way he said Derek’s name was different than it had ever been. It shocked Stiles. He said it like a prayer. He said it like he would die without it’s owner, like he needed him, like he loved him.

Stiles loved Derek.

 _Fuck_.

“Derek,” and there it was again, that needy, desperate tone, “I-” but Derek cut him off with a raise of his hand.

“Be quiet. It’s your turn to listen, Stiles,” Stiles gulped, an empty feeling filling his gut. “You are a fucking brat. You are impulsive and meddlesome and often very rude and you’re too sarcastic, pretty much all the goddamned time, but you’re _pack_. You’re a part of who I am, Stiles. You know me, better than anyone who’s still alive. And yet you have the fucking audacity to ask me if I understand what it means to want to help the people you care about?” Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but Derek growled, “No, don’t fucking talk! You talk too goddamned much, usually when it’s not even your place. I _am_ broken, Stiles. There’s no ‘seemed’ about it. My soul is void of all of the things that make life worth living: happiness, hope, _love_. And, sure, the first time you stepped into my nightmares, maybe it was an accident, but you kept going, Stiles. You dug further because you have no sense of boundaries when it comes to people’s feelings, Stiles. Just because you’re an open book and you always speak your mind, doesn’t mean that’s what others want, Stiles! I didn’t ask you to fix me! I didn’t ask you to take me in and heal my wounds. My wounds are too fucking deep for that, Stiles, I am scarred, and I’ll be that way for the rest of my goddamned life.” Stiles felt hot tears streaking his face, but he was too worried about Derek to be embarrassed. What had he _done_ to this man?

Derek could see the sadness in Stiles’ eyes, the want to comfort him. “God damn it, Stiles, why do you do that? Why do you look at me like you want to hold me in your arms and tell me that everything will be all right? What makes you think I even deserve that?” Derek’s voice was thick with pain that he’d been holding back for far too long. In his dreams, he and Stiles had only ever talked about their pasts and how they felt about what happened. This was Derek talking about how he felt about _himself_.

Stiles needed to help him, but he didn’t know how. So, he started talking, because that was the only thing he knew how to do, “Derek…” he waited a moment to see if Derek would stop him, but he didn’t, “Derek, do you remember the first time we met?” Derek looked at him like he was a lunatic, but he needed to get Derek to understand. “That day, in the forest, it was you, me, and Scott. I remember being terrified when you walked up to us, you looked so angry, so predatory. But, deep down, part of me knew you wouldn’t hurt us because I knew about your past. Not the way I do now, but I knew because my father had worked on the case about the fire.” Derek flinched instinctively at the mention of the fire. “I was shocked when Scott and I found Laura’s body in your yard,” another flinch, “because it didn’t make sense for you to kill your only remaining family, and I never told you this, Derek, but I’m so sorry that I ever assumed the worst about you because that’s what everyone does to you. They never even give you a chance.” A stray tear tumbled down Derek’s face, “It took me a long time to get past my original assumptions about you, Derek, but I knew when the Kanima found us in the pool, and you told me to run and stayed to fight, that you were a good person. You could have run away without a thought and left me to be the Kanima’s prey, but you _saved me_ , Derek. So, I saved you back. Sure, I’d saved you before when Kate,” more flinching, “shot you with that magic bullet, but back then I was doing it for Scott. That night, in the pool, I was doing it for _you_. I decided that you deserved to live, Derek. And you know damn well, that I am not the type of person to save just anyone because, guess what, I’m not exactly the type of person who can save whoever I want. I’m not that strong.” Derek finally decided to respond.

“You are strong, Stiles. You’re the strongest person I know.” Stiles groaned.

“Again with the superlatives! First, I’m the most trustworthy, then the most beautiful, and now I’m the strongest? That makes absolutely no goddamned sense, Derek, and you know it.” Derek shook his head, but let Stiles continue, “Anyway, after that, you seemed to lose your way for a while. After Gerard and the Kanima were gone, you had some serious damage control to take care of. So, you enlisted my help with tracking the alpha pack over the summer, which I happily gave. During that time, I noticed a change in you, Derek. You found new purpose: to protect your pack. As the alpha, that was already pretty much your job, but you decided to make it your sole existential function. You worked your ass off to try and save Boyd and Erica,” more tears streamed from Derek’s eyes, Boyd and Erica were still open wounds, “And I’ve never been more sorry for anything in my whole life than when you lost Boyd, Derek. I know that you think you destroy everyone around you, that you’re no good. But, I’m telling you that’s not true.” The former alpha rolled his eyes at Stiles, very reminiscent of the behavior Stiles usually reserved for _him_. Stiles would have laughed at the irony if he weren’t so concerned with making Derek realize how important he was. “Derek, you save me. You’ve always saved me, even when it means you might be killed. Do you not realize how amazing that is?”

Derek growled in a very human way and rushed up to Stiles, placing a hand over his mouth, “No, Stiles. _You_ save _me_. _You_ are the amazing one. You just don’t get it, Stiles, which is fucking ridiculous because you’re also the smart one. You’re… you’re _everything_ , Stiles.” Even without supernatural hearing, Stiles could tell that the implications of what Derek had just said were affecting Derek’s heart rate. He looked anywhere but Stiles’ eyes, trying to avoid the inevitable.

That was okay. Stiles could wait. They had time.

“You know why I save you, Stiles?”

“No, I honestly don’t.”

Derek didn’t like that answer, but he continued, knowing full well he wasn’t going to fix Stiles’ self-esteem tonight, “I save you because I care about you, because I think you deserve to live, Stiles. I save you because I can’t imagine what the world would be like without you in it, and I don’t want to find out. If it had been anyone else, be it Jackson or Allison or Lydia or maybe even Scott, I would have let them die! But, I couldn’t let you die, Stiles, you’re too important.” Stiles was light-headed, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was strange to hear Derek talking about feelings outside of a dream. “And that’s what makes you better than me, Stiles. I save you for my own selfish reasons and you save me because you think it’s the right thing to do, because you have morals, because you’re a good person. You would have saved anyone from drowning in that pool, Stiles. It had nothing to do with me.” Derek was breathing very heavily, eyes boring into Stiles’. He wasn’t blinking.

This was what he truly believed, Stiles understood, and Stiles thought it was the most ludicrous thing he’d ever heard.

“Bullshit.” Derek’s eyes widened, and he looked as if he was going to protest, but Stiles didn’t allow it, “Look, Derek, the first time I saved you, I told you I did it for Scott. I actually remember asking Scott if he would let you die because I was terrified as shit of you. Thank god Scott is the most compassionate person on this fucking Earth because I don’t know where I’d be or who I’d be if I hadn’t gotten the chance to save you again and again, Derek. Derek, saving you is an honor. When I saved you from the Kanima, I did it because you mattered to me, not just because it was the right thing to do. I needed you to live, Derek, because you were right when you said I need you to survive. I need you like fucking Adderall, Derek. You keep me sane. You are the only person who makes me feel like I mean anything these days.” Silence poured over the room. Derek was panting and his eyes were crazy. Stiles could feel the tether between them go taut.

“Stiles, I…” Derek looked like he had so much to say, but he had no idea how to say it. Stiles imagined that happened a lot for Derek. “I’m scared, Stiles. I’m always scared.” Stiles didn’t need to hear anything else. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the big werewolf.

“I know, Derek. So am I. I’m scared of everything; I’m scared of Scott leaving me behind, my Dad getting hurt, my panic attacks coming back, my friends getting hurt, losing my mind, getting bitten… I’m scared of my feelings for you.” Derek didn’t say anything, he just pulled Stiles towards the bed. Stiles hadn’t noticed he was crying until Derek wiped a tear away.

They laid together on Stiles’ bed for what felt like days, not saying a word, just holding each other in the dark. Derek listened to Stiles’ heartbeat, and when Stiles cried, Derek didn’t judge him. He just held him as tight as he could, to keep him from falling apart. It made Stiles feel guilty because he was supposed to be helping Derek, not the other way around.

After Stiles finally composed himself enough, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Derek.” Derek laughed quietly, and Stiles could feel Derek’s laughter on his back. It felt nice.

“Stiles, I think we both know I forgave you before I even got here.”

Stiles turned to face Derek. They were incredibly close, and it made Stiles’ heart stutter. He wanted to kiss him, but he was so tired, so exhausted from all of the fighting and caring. So, he just looked into Derek’s intense eyes. _What even is this dude’s eye color?_ Stiles thought. Looking into Derek's eyes, a feeling of peace washed over him, like things would only get better from where they were.

Stiles yawned, and Derek smiled. Just as he was about to fall asleep, Derek leaned in close and gently brushed his lips against Stiles’. For being as tough as he was, Derek was quite gentle where it counted.

“Good night, Stiles.”

And with that, Stiles fell asleep.

When he woke up in the morning, Derek was gone.


	5. A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek expected Stiles to call him after they spent the night together. He just didn't expect what the call was about.

When Derek’s phone buzzed the next day, he wasn’t at all surprised to see that it was Stiles. He was, however, utterly terrified of what exactly Stiles would have to say after the night they’d had together. But, because he was a man of great courage, he answered the phone.

“Derek? Derek! Derek, are you there?” Stiles sounded scared and out-of-breath.

“Yes, I’m here, Stiles, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Derek felt panic build inside him. If someone had hurt Stiles…

“No, no, I’m fine, but Scott’s slashed up really bad! I can’t carry him all the way back to my jeep all on my own, and… well, I guess I could’ve called Isaac or Allison, but I thought of you first.” Derek tried to stay focused on the task at hand, but that took Derek aback for a moment.

“Where are you, Stiles?” He could hear Stiles panting on the other line, like he’d been running. Derek didn’t like not knowing what was going on, and he certainly didn’t like the idea of Stiles being in danger. Whatever had attacked Scott could still be out there. Derek found himself grabbing his keys and running out to his car before Stiles even had the time to reply.

“We’re out by the nemeton, Derek. Scott called me and told me he found something, but when I got here…” Derek heard Stiles breathing quicken, he was panicking. Derek sped through Beacon Hills, pushing the limits of his Camaro.

“Stiles. Stiles, just breathe. I need you to breathe for me, okay? Just calm down, everything’s going to be all right. I promise. I won’t let anything hurt you. We’ll take Scott to Deaton, and everything will be okay, just relax.”

Stiles’ heart calmed a bit, and his breathing slowed, “Okay. Please, just hurry.” And he hung up.

Derek did as he said.

When he made it to the clearing, he found Stiles leaning up against the nemeton with Scott lying across his lap. Stiles was so concerned for Scott that he didn’t even notice Derek walking up to them. Stiles’ face was stained with tears, and he was whimpering little, anecdotal reassurances to Scott.

_Don’t worry, it’s gonna be all right, buddy._

_You’re gonna be okay._

_I’m right here, Scotty._

_I love you, remember?_

_I promised to take care of you._

_I promised._

_Please be okay, buddy._

_I need you to be okay._

_I need you._

_Please._

Derek couldn’t take it. He slowly crouched down to get Stiles’ attention, gently touching his arm. Stiles started, moving to block Scott from the returning attacker. It was the most heartbreaking thing Derek had ever seen. When Stiles realized it was just Derek, he jumped up, lifting Scott with him. He looked slightly relieved, but Derek could tell he was losing hope by the second.

Derek lifted Scott into his arms and sprinted back to his Camaro, Stiles in tow. Stiles got into the back seat with Scott, placing Scott’s head gently in his lap. “Derek, he’s not healing! Why isn’t he healing?” Stiles started panicking again, his chest heaving and sobs building in his chest.

“Stiles, Stiles calm down. He’s going to be okay, do you hear me? It was probably an alpha, but healing can be slowed down if we’re hit with certain types of wolf’s bane. You just have to trust me, all right? I promise I won’t let Scott die. Understand me, Stiles? I promise.” Derek watched Stiles nod at him in the rearview mirror, unable to speak.

By the time they made it to the animal clinic, Stiles looked completely numb. He hardly moved as Derek lifted Scott from the back seat and carried him in to Deaton.

“He was attacked out by the nemeton. Stiles said that Scott called him because he found something, and when he got there, Scott was lying there all slashed up, no one in sight.” Deaton didn’t look too alarmed, which meant that Scott would be okay. But, he did look worried, like he knew something bad was going on.

“These are definitely from an alpha.” Derek wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He wasn’t the alpha anymore. He just knew that he needed to help Scott. “I’m going to inject him with a special type of wolf’s bane that will speed up the healing process, he should be awake in no time. Then, hopefully he can tell us what happened.”

Derek walked over to where Stiles was sitting on the bench in the operating room. The same bench Derek had sat on while Deaton operated on Scott after Victoria had tried to kill him. It tore him up inside that Scott was always being hurt. He was a good kid, good intentions, good heart. He was a true alpha. The idea that there were people who wanted to hurt him was ludicrous.

“Stiles?” Stiles hazily looked up at him, as if he had forgotten where he was, or as if he wished he could.

“Derek…” And that was all it took. All Stiles had to do was say his name and he was reduced to nothing but a swollen heart, a devoted soul. “Derek, would you just hold me? Just until he wakes up? If…he wakes up.”

Derek nodded at Stiles earnestly, sitting down next to him and pulling him into his chest, wrapping his arms around him. Stiles quietly began to cry into him, and it took all Derek had not to cry with him, not to cry for this broken boy whose fragile, human heart withstood more pain than anyone’s deserved to.

“He _will_ wake up, Stiles. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

“I’ll always be scared. Fear is what makes me human. A weak, useless human who couldn’t keep his best friend safe.”

“Stiles, I wish for one day, you could see yourself the way I see you. I wish you could see just how valuable you are to everyone around you.” Stiles didn’t respond, he just sighed and nuzzled closer into Derek’s chest. Derek understood.

They stayed like that until Scott woke up. Stiles was at his side in a second, looking him over, making sure he was really all right. Cooing about how much he loved him and how sorry he was that he didn’t get there in time to help him. “Stiles, it’s okay. I’m fine. You saved my life.”

Derek coughed.

“With help from Derek, of course!” Derek smiled and came over to stand by Stiles at Scott’s side. It was moments like this when Derek realized that no matter how much he tried to pretend he no longer had a family, he knew he did. And, he knew he couldn’t have asked for a better one. Or a more dysfunctional one, all things considered.

“Scott, I hate to be the party pooper,” Stiles snorted at Derek’s use of the phrase, “but, we need to know who attacked you. And why.”

Scott sighed, clearly frustrated with what would be his answer. “I was out for a run in the woods. I always pass by the area where the nemeton is, just as a sort of motivation, I guess. I stopped when I saw a dead deer on the ground. I knew it wasn’t normal, so I went to check it out. And, I noticed that the deer had a vengeance spiral clawed into its side. That was when I texted Stiles to come meet me. Right after the text sent, I was attacked.”

Derek wasn’t sure he wanted to ask this question, “Who attacked you, Scott?”

With a deep breath and a look of deep remorse, Scott quietly said, “…it was Deucalion.”

It all made sense. He wanted revenge for them having defeated him. But, why hadn’t he just killed Scott?

“Scott, why didn’t he kill you?” Stiles asked, as if he’d read Derek’s mind. For as often as it happened, Derek thought Stiles might actually be able to do that.

“I don’t know. Something must have scared him off. Whatever it was, I couldn’t be more thankful.” Stiles nodded in agreement, pulling Scott into him and squeezing lightly.

“We need to notify the pack,” Derek said.

Scott nodded his own agreement and quickly jumped off the table. They all got back into Derek’s Camaro, a short goodbye and thank you tossed behind them to Deaton, and headed to Scott’s house. When they got there, the pack was waiting for them.

“How did they—,” Derek started.

“I texted them,” Stiles replied.

The three of them got out of the car in a hurried blur, joining the rest of the pack on the porch.

“What’s going on?” Lydia asked from her place at Allison’s side.

Scott explained, “I was attacked out by the nemeton earlier after I found an animal marked with the symbol of vengeance. It was Deucalion. He’s back. He’s in Beacon Hills, and we need to find him. Before he finds any of us.”

Allison nodded shortly, she always agreed with Scott’s plans.

Isaac decided to chime in, “We should split up. Each werewolf take a human and head out to find him. If one of the pairs spots him, they can let the rest of the pack know to come and meet them wherever they are.”

The whole pack hummed their accordance.

“I’ll take Allison with me,” Scott said predictably, “Lydia you go with Isaac, and Stiles, make sure Derek doesn’t get himself killed.” He threw Stiles a wink, and Derek fought back a fond smile.

“Well, let’s not waste any time. Isaac, you and Lydia go check out the apartment the alphas lived in while they were here. Scott, you and Allison go back to the nemeton and scout around the area. Derek and I will check the warehouse where you fought him during the lunar eclipse.”

Scott nodded once, and then came up to Stiles, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking him in the eye. He didn’t need to say anything, Stiles understood. It made something clench in Derek’s heart. They were saying goodbye. Just in case. Derek didn’t like that at all.

With one last look shared between each of its members, the pack went their separate ways.

Derek was just glad that he had Stiles by his side.


	6. Don't Dream It's Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles knew he had bad luck. He just didn't know it was evil-demon-wolf-alpha-shows-up-to-kill-you-and-your-possible-mate bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's about to get real, y'all.

Stiles watched the rest of the pack drive off. He wished more than anything that he would get to see them again. But, something deep within him kept telling him that you can’t have everything you wish for.

“We need to drive by my jeep before we go to the warehouse. I need to grab something.” Derek nodded solemnly and got into the car without a word. Stiles could tell that he had a lot to say. Derek always said nothing when he had everything on his mind. It was something Stiles had come to love about him.

Derek stopped the car by the jeep and Stiles hopped out, going to the trunk and pulling out his lacrosse bag. Derek quirked and eyebrow.

“Supplies,” Stiles said matter-of-factly. Derek tilted his head up, a small smile playing at his lips. Stiles loved it when that happened.

They made it to the warehouse just as it was getting dark. The moon hung low in the sky, and Stiles looked at it, really looked at it, for the first time in his life. He suddenly felt like writing a lot of poetry. He chuckled to himself, and Derek looked at him like he was insane. He shrugged and waved him off as if to say _Don’t even ask_.

Derek came up to him and looked at the moon, too. Stiles watched him look at it like it was his guiding light. Stiles wanted more than anything for Derek to look at him, the way he looked at the moon. Part of him thought that maybe, just maybe, he already did when Stiles wasn’t paying attention. Stiles smiled.

Suddenly, Derek looked very grim. “Stiles…”

Stiles sighed, frustrated, “No, Derek. We are not having this conversation.” He stepped in front of Derek, placing his hands on the slightly bigger man’s shoulders. “You and I are going to wait here to see if Deucalion shows up, and if he does, you and I are going to fight, and I am going to make sure that you end up okay. Got it?” He huffed, but nodded his head.

As if on queue, a high shrieking noise filled the warehouse, like claws on a chalkboard.

It was pretty damn close. Deucalion walked into the warehouse, his claws dragging along the metal wall. He pulled them off the wall, grin on his face, and simply said, “Hello boys.” Stiles felt like barfing.

“Derek…” But, Stiles was too late. Derek ran at Deucalion. But, Deucalion had expected his attack and caught Derek by his neck, slashing up his stomach with his other hand and throwing him off to the side like a piece of trash into a waste basket. Stiles screamed and ran to Derek’s side.

“Derek! Derek, are you okay?” Derek shook his head yes, but spit up some blood. These were marks from an alpha, and he was a beta now. It would take too long for him to heal.

It was up to Stiles now.

“How about this, Stiles? You let me kill Derek, and I’ll let you go. You’ll never see me again. How’s that?” Deucalion was smiling, and it made Stiles sick. He hadn’t changed one bit since his last encounter with the pack. Some people just can’t. Stiles knew that.

“Stiles, please—,” Derek began.

“No, Derek! I will not leave you here. Don’t ask me to do that, you don’t get to ask me to do that!”

“Please, Stiles, you don’t have to save me.” Derek was a wreck.

“Yes, I do, Derek. It’s my job to save you,” He smiled at Derek earnestly, warmly, “It always has been.”

He steeled himself and knelt down, opening his lacrosse bag.

Deucalion chuckled darkly, “What are you gonna do, Stilinski? Beat me to death with your lacrosse stick?”

Stiles smiled humorlessly at him, pulling out his last line of defense. It was something that Deaton had given to him as a gift to start his training. He’d been practicing with it every night since the sacrifices and the battle with Jennifer. “Beauty, isn’t it?” Deucalion actually looked a little bit worried, and Stiles took that as a small victory. “This is what my fellow emissaries and I call a druid quarterstaff, Duke. It’s five feet long, filled with enchanted mountain ash and lined with the zest of our good old friend mistletoe. Sure, I’m barely trained to used it, but I think I get the gist of beating the shit out of someone with a big stick.” Deep down, Stiles knew that he was doomed, but it was still nice to see that pale, terrified look on his enemy’s face. It gave him the motivation to try and survive until Scott could arrive.

“It was you!” Deucalion fumed.

“I’m sorry?” No, he wasn’t.

The alpha continued, “When I attacked Scott out by the nemeton, I sensed an emissary. More powerful than any I’d ever encountered before. I assumed it was Deaton, so I fled. But, it was _you_.” Stiles’ jaw was on the floor. He was _powerful_?

 _Score_.

“Well, now that you mention it, Duke, it _was_ me that stopped you from killing Scott,” Deucalion glared at him, enraged. “And, I’m going to stop you from killing Derek.”

His glare hardened and then transformed into a sick grin. Stiles tried not to wet himself as Deucalion took his true form as theDemon Wolf.

“Well then, fearsome emissary Stilinski,” Stiles felt bile forming in his throat. He sensed no fear from the alpha wolf.

“Let’s begin.”

Deucalion lunged at Stiles claws-first. Stiles deftly stepped to the side, avoiding his attack and swinging the staff into Deucalion’s left side. The impact was strong enough to shatter a human’s ribs, but the demonic werewolf was hardly fazed. Stiles jumped back and out of the way of Duke’s next slash of claws, twisting the staff above his head and bringing it down on Deucalion’s head, knocking him to the ground. The boy started swinging down relentlessly at the alpha’s fallen figure. He landed a blow to his chest, stomach and right cheek. Deucalion rolled away, hopping up but showing some labor in it. Stiles was honestly just proud of having caused him even the smallest bit of pain. It meant that his training had actually shown improvement, which he hadn’t expected in the slightest. Stiles hadn’t realized his own potential.

What a shame it was for him to realize it when he was about to die.

He prepared for Deucalion’s next attack, getting into the power stance that Deaton had taught him, feet slightly more than shoulder width apart and staff out in front of him. Deucalion surprised him, though, front-tucking over him and slashing his back open through his shirt. Stiles fell forward in agony; he’d never felt any pain like it before. But, he quickly rolled back and stood, swinging the staff around his whole body and hitting Deucalion in the face with one giant _WHAP_. Stiles felt the blood soaking his back, and he felt a little woozy. Deucalion had obviously sunken his claws in pretty deep.

Stiles tried not to think about it.

All that could be heard in the warehouse was Stiles’ ragged breathing, he was getting tired. Deucalion lunged forward again, but instead of side-stepping, Stiles simply swung down on him right there. Stiles felt all of his hopes dissipate when Deucalion caught the staff in his hand. He threw Stiles nearly twelve feet off to the side by the staff. All of the air left his lungs when he hit the wall. Deucalion was on him in a moment, lifting him by his throat. Stiles’ feet were off the ground, but the staff was still in his hand. If he could just…

Deucalion cut off his thinking by digging his claws into Stiles’ chest. Stiles sputtered and coughed, felt blood filling his lungs, it _hurt_.

Stiles quickly reached into his pocket, grabbing a handful of the mountain ash he carried with him at all times, just like Deaton had taught him. He smiled at Deucalion morbidly, spitting out some blood onto his feet. He lifted the handful of ash up in front of him, “See you in hell, dickhead” and blew it into Deucalion’s face.

Deucalion gasped, started choking and coughing. He fell back in a heap, and Stiles cried out in pain as his claws, still deep in Stiles’ chest, dragged down the boy’s torso as he fell.

With all the rest of his strength, Stiles stepped forward and plunged the end of his quarterstaff into Deucalion’s heart. The alpha howled in agony. For good measure, Stiles’ broke it off where it had sunken in, spilling the mountain ash into the werewolf’s open heart.

Deucalion’s veins started bulging, a sickly green color, as he gagged and wretched. The same black goo that Stiles had seen spill from Gerard began filtering onto the ground from Deucalion’s eyes, mouth and nose. Stiles felt like yakking, but he wasn’t sure if that was from the black goo or from his wounds. He was ripped open, front and back, but when he looked over and saw Derek regaining his strength, he knew it was worth it.

He fell to the ground, eyes to the ceiling, imagining what it would be like to see his mother again. Maybe he would get the chance to see her, just one more time, before he was sent to hell. There’s no way you can hang around with werewolves, killing supernatural creatures, and not go to hell. He tried laughing, but all it came out as was a choked-off garble. He remembered his mother’s smell, her voice and her lovely brown hair; he remembered the way it would float in the summer wind while they would plant flowers together. He smiled, no longer feeling the pain.

Suddenly, a voice sharpened in his head. It was Scott’s.

Scott had finally arrived.

He was safe.

 _Good_ , Stiles thought.

“Stiles! No, Stiles!” Scott fell on his knees next to Stiles. “Stiles, please don’t do this to me, buddy, please—,” He started sobbing, and Stiles didn’t like that. He heard someone saying _Shhhh_ and _It’s all right_ , and he assumed it was Allison. He lifted his head to see that he was right, she was cradling Scott’s head, combing her fingers through his hair. But, there were tears in her eyes, too. She was so strong. Stiles loved her for that.

“Sc-Scott, come here bu-bud,” Stiles garbled out. Scott’s head lifted swiftly, and he lifted Stiles’ head into his lap.

“I’m here, buddy, I’m here. You’re gonna be all right. I… Stiles, I—,” But, he just cried again, his tears falling onto Stiles’ face.

Stiles felt his breathing slowing down. It wouldn’t be long. He only wished that—

“Stiles!” And there he was, Derek Hale, the one person Stiles wanted to see, appearing just when he needed him most, like always. “Stiles…” Stiles didn’t want him to say _please don’t go_ or _don’t do this to me_. It would hurt too much. “Stiles, you were so brave. You were incredible. I’m s-so p-proud of you,” he was holding back a sob, Stiles could tell. It made something twist in his already aching chest.

“Do you think it’s too late for that conversation we were talking about earlier?” Derek huffed a somber laugh. Stiles smiled at it. Even on his deathbed, he could make Derek laugh. He was proud of that.

“I love you, Stiles.” It was everything Stiles had ever wanted to hear. Just those four words from Derek Hale. He felt a peaceful, languorous warmth flood over him.

“I love you, too...” Stiles felt his breathing hitch. This was it. He smiled up at Derek, "So long, Sourwolf."

And everything went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fear! There will be more! And if this isn't tagged as "Major Character Death", I wouldn't be too worried about Stiles Stilinski!

**Author's Note:**

> Angst, angst, and more angst. You might cry. I know I will.


End file.
